What I'm practicing right now is waiting.
Just wait,
I tell myself.
With a problem,
With planning,
With feeling like I said the wrong thing at the wrong time,
Wait.
Rushing towards my phone,
Jumping to conclusions,
Or frantically comparing won't provide the wise answers I seek.
I don't have to be the one who has it all figured out immediately.
I can wait.
What I'm training all the versions of myself to believe is that there is no shame in waiting,
Nor in moving slow.
If I mindfully wait on a decision or on reacting,
It isn't apathy.
To wait is not uncaring.
Somewhere along the way in our virtue signaling cancel culture,
I've noticed that we fear pausing or resting will be perceived as a lack of heart.
Along the way,
We've been shamed by ourselves and others for taking a minute to process.
Along the way,
Assumptions have overrun this truth that waiting is how we soothe,
How we clarify,
And how we discover the next move.
Waiting isn't a weakness.
It will cause discomfort because it's different.
But when we wait,
We create room for wisdom to emerge.
Waiting with the intention of filling our own cup is a long lost art form.
Sometimes the practice of being intentional isn't valued as highly as impact.
And sometimes intention is an okay place to wait.
I want to take up space to observe,
To nurture,
To not know.
How could I ever give to our world without tending to my own inner world first?
It takes intention and lots of practice to pause and give to self first before anyone else.
I should also admit that I have a big voracious goal for 2025.
Yet I don't want to forget to stay intentional around my actions.
If I'm going to keep moving forward and rising,
I need to be equally as trusting and reverent to the silent and unseen practice of waiting.
What a practice.
